Muffled by a shroud of silence sounds a thousand miles away,
And the past is hovering round us with its ghostly, dim array,
Flitting by in vague procession, up the aisleway, down the hall,
While we lurk here, snugly sheltered, shadowed by the massive wall.
Stately dominies, wig-powdered, all in gowns of silk arrayed;
Fairest dames, slim and high-waisted, clad in flowered, quaint brocade;
Smart young captains, bold as pirates, with their slaves all gaunt and black;
Stout old Dutchmen and their ladies, gowned as in a miller's sack—
How they flit past in the gloaming, thru the huge, high-vaulted hall,
While we lurk here, snugly sheltered, shadowed by the massive wall.